A glimpse

In the White Sky

by William Stafford

Many things in the world have
already happened. You can
go back and tell about them.
They are part of what we
own as we speed along
through the white sky.

But many things in the world
haven't yet happened. You help
them by thinking and writing and acting.
Where they begin, you greet them
or stop them. You come along
and sustain the new things.

Once, in the white sky there was
a beginning, and I happened to notice
and almost glimpsed what to do.
But now I have come far
to here, and it is away back there.
Some days, I think about it.

I've glimpsed  how it would be to be on my own, to own my life.  Today I helped two friends, men, take down and cut up three large hickory trees. I piled brush and logs.  I had intentions of overcoming my fear of chainsaws, of learning to use the little electric saw that Gil got for me last fall.  I didn't because,        I didn't need to, I have other ways to carry my weight.  It's not sexist to know that I won't be able to, don't need to, do everything.  Living my own life doesn't mean I have to do everything myself,   it means I need to decide what I want, what I can do, how to get help when I need it.  To decide what I want to give, because I want to, choose to, not because I have it to give and there is a need.  

I glimpsed something that I haven't seen since the days before my first marriage and children, me stepping into my own life.  I want to greet it, this beginning, and see where it leads me.